I wrote you a letter, tore it into pieces, and planted it three feet from the North Saskatchewan River. It should arrive via ocean current. Barring that, it will arrive by continental drift in a few thousand years. Please respond as soon as it arrives. I have marked several pieces “Urgent”.

I came to visit you and your man last night. Only I brought my whole family. And you yelled at us for throwing popcorn around the kitchen (even though it did the most amazing slow-motion snowflake falling) because the kitchen was where you had to sleep that night. And you had gallons of vodka of different flavours lining the counters and more wine than I thought any one person would own (even puzzling wine in boxes and red wine being stored in the fridge). I wondered how much you thought I would drink in the week I would be there. As we sat around the kitchen table with our morning coffee, your man asked me why I used such bright blues on the link list for my blog. I woke up craving potato chips and trying to convert CMYK values to hex codes for milder shades of blue.

How much more awesome could it get than starting a Sunday with great blues and Buck 65?

The answer is none. None more awesome.

I thought of you when Buck sang Wicked and Weird. I think, if you saw him live, a piece of you would always belong to that devilish corner-eye glance that accompanies his naughty jokes.

Happy James Baldwin’s Birthday!